The Remaking of Dr Spencer Reid
by QueenZenobia
Summary: Spencer embarks on a grueling journey through the Amazon in search of Alison and his daughter, knowing that he will have to fight hard to survive and then to win back his family.
1. Chapter 1

_**Author's Note:** A very warm greeting! I'm ready to take Spencer on another ride! I hope you will join him from start to finish._

 _ **Disclaimer:** This is just for fun, not for profit, so please let Dr. Reid and the BAU come out to play._

 _ **To Reader's who have not read "The Undoing of Dr. Spencer Reid,"** this is what you need to know to enjoy this story. (Spoiler Alert!) Spencer fell in love with a serial killer. (But she's really charming, and not in a Dexter kind of way. Normal charming.) But in the end, the star-crossed lovers couldn't stay together. Spencer returned to the BAU and Alison fled to the Peruvian jungle to live with an indigenous tribe called the Yuru. Spencer was trying to come to terms with the separation but when he found out that Alison had his baby daughter, he decides to find them. And that's exactly what he will do in this story. I hope you enjoy it._

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Chapter 1

For the rest of his life, Dr. Spencer Reid would remember that horrific journey.

It was all well and good upon arriving at Lima, where there was no shortage of English-speaking tour guides who practically beat each other off with a stick to attend the young American. But the further he traveled away from the capital in search of his destination on the 10th parallel south, the more rustic the land and the people became. At the final leg of the journey, not one member of the caravan spoke a word of English. So Spencer was utterly alone in his misery.

The only cure for the altitude sickness that plagued him was descending to lower ground. But that was out of the question now: He would literally die without a guide. So he willed himself up, ever up, on the narrow cliff road, chewing one coca leaf after another seeking relief. The dizziness and nausea would have been more bearable if he stayed perfectly still, but that was impossible while riding a mule. The stinking beast, angered by ticks and mites, jerked relentlessly. Sometimes it grew so mad with itch that Spencer feared it would dive head long into the bottomless precipice.

But by the third day, Spencer actually hoped for death. He could no longer alleviate his blistered backside by shifting his weight from one buttocks to the other. So falling into the void didn't seem so bad any more. First, he would have to remove the ropes that fastened him to the mule and to the rider in front of him.

"Hombre!" yelled the rider behind him when Spencer removed the first rope. "Estás loco!"

"Sí!" yelled Spencer frantically and his echo bounced off the cliff wall into the void he was trying to jump off.

The man used his riding whip to prevent Reid from removing the second rope. Spencer cried out in pain and nursed his aching hand against his chest. The rider whistled distinctively and the caravan came to a sudden halt.

"Maldito gringo!" The rider dismounted and approached Reid with a curse under his breath. He put the rope back in place and then faced Reid squarely. He was a large man with one eye, dark, olive-colored skin, and a long triangular face. He spoke angrily, spit a wad of tobacco on the ground, and remounted.

Of all his threats Reid only understood that the rider would shoot him if he removed the ropes again, which would have been okay if Reid didn't know how much it hurt to get shot. But the rider also said that they were close to the evening lodging, and that gave Spencer hope. The rider whistled again and the caravan moved on as the blinding sun started its descent behind the Andes.

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 _ **Author's Note: Thank you for reading. Please leave a review.**_


	2. Chapter 2

_**Author's Note:**_ _Welcome back **M** and **Ripon**! I was excited to hear from you again. And a special thank you to **Sazzita** for your review. I'm glad you enjoyed "The Undoing of Doctor Spencer Reid."_

 _This new story is finally taking shape. I hadn't realized how difficult it was to write about places one has never seen. I've been doing a lot of research to write this story. The first few chapters are inspired by the mountain journey of Fermina Daza in "Love in the Times of Cholera," by Gabriel García Márquez. I hope you enjoy Chapter 2._

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Chapter 2

The bright orange sunset hues had turned to purple and pink when the caravan reached the evening lodging. It was a row of open-air public rooms, right on the edge of the cliff road. A mountain pass lead to a sunny valley with a homey village, but strangers were not welcome there. The indigenous people who owned these lands built the roadside lodgings for travelers. They made a small profit by renting out hammocks and straw mats, and by offering hearty, mountain meals. There were only two rules here: everyone was welcome to stay the night, but they had to be on their way by morning.

Spencer cried out in pain as he dismounted his mule. Everything hurt -every bone, every muscle, and his blistered back side. But his ego was hurt the most. The hardened mountain men laughed at him and cracked jokes about his state of agony. Not one of them knew that he had an IQ of 187 and an eidetic memory, or that he could read 20,000 words per minute. Not that any of these gifts could help him now. All he wanted was to forget his misery in sleep.

After his meal, Spencer felt stronger. He had no idea what he had eaten, but it was hot and delicious. He shivered in the cold breeze as he hobbled to a room with a straw mat under his arm. He was grateful that his caravan had been the first to arrive because he was able to choose a good spot, one where he wouldn't get stepped on by the travelers arriving at all hours of the night. He rolled out his mat, noticing that it wasn't so stained by bodily fluids as the ones he had had to sleep on during the two previous nights. It didn't smell as bad either, or was it that his own stench of sweaty mule dominated all other smells? Either way, Spencer felt better tonight, except for his aching blisters.

To take his mind off the discomfort, Spencer reached into his pocket and took out the wrinkled picture of his little girl. He re-examined every detail of her face, and smiled. She was so beautiful: blonde with blue eyes. He could tell she was happy and confident. Obviously, Alison was doing a great job as a mother. He would have loved to see her pregnant, to be with her during birth. He wondered what the toddler's laugh sounded like, or how it would feel to have her little hands wrapped around his neck, or if she ever asked about her daddy. "I'm coming, baby girl!" he whispered almost urgently. And then he remembered what he had attempted just that afternoon.

He stared in shame at the bottomless abyss just ahead and then at his swollen, red hand. The loud cracking of the whip, followed by an excruciating pain, had instantly awakened him from the sleepy haze of mountain sickness. He had to hold on to dear life, so that his daughter could get the chance she deserved to meet her father.

Although it hurt to walk, Spencer got up and searched for the dark rider who had saved his life. He found him sitting by the fire, drinking with the men from the caravan. The lively conversation died away when Spencer approached. He cleared his throat and told the one-eyed man, " _Gracias, hombre_ , _muchas gracias_." And he lifted his hurt hand.

A suspenseful silence followed, so Spencer turned to leave. But the man finally said, "Espere. Tómese algo con nosotros."

The words were alien to Spencer, but the man's body language suggested that he was invited to join the group. Wincing with pain, Spencer took a seat and accepted the bottle offered to him. He hesitated, thinking about the number of germs on the common bottle, but even with his limited social skills, Spencer understood that to reject it would be suicide.

He took a decisive swig and coughed after forcing it down. The men laughed and voiced their approval. They called it fire-water and said it was made for real men. Spencer felt the amber liquid burning a path down his esophagus and into his stomach. Then, heat coursed through his veins to every extremity of his body. _Whoa! What the hell was that?_ They offered him the bottle again and Spencer said, "Oh, sí!"

The group drank heavily into the night and Spencer was quite drunk by the time he flopped onto his mat. So he couldn't understand that the old, indigenous woman who removed his trousers with the help of the one-eyed man was not intent on violating him. He felt instant relief when she smoothed an ointment on his backside blisters. Reid stopped fighting, somehow registering that the woman was curing him. The one-eyed man laughed and retired to his hammock leaving Spencer with the medicine woman.

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 _ **Thank you for reading. I'd love to hear your thoughts and suggestions!**_


	3. Chapter 3

_**From the author:**_ _Welcome back, and thank you for the reviews! They really encourage me. I hope you enjoy Chapter 3._

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Chapter 3

At first light the Indian lodging was busy and noisy. It felt like a town square rather than the isolated mountain peak it had been the previous afternoon. The travelers bumped into each other as they hurried to grab a bite to eat and then to gather their hens or caged fighting cocks or baskets of whatever they were transporting from village to village. They mounted their horse, mule, or llama and made their way through the sea of villagers offering fruits, vegetables, and handcrafted items. The air smelled like the sweat and feces of the many beasts of burden and of the fishermen's raw catch preserved in salts for market day.

In his hung-over state, it took Spencer three tries to mount his mule and it took even greater effort to try to catch up with his caravan. Last night's comradery with the gruff mountain men was lost by the fact that he can't hold his liquor. His companions made little effort to wait for him along the winding path, and the ever widening gap between them started to scare Spencer. What if he got lost? He urged his mule on, ordering himself to sober up.

But he pulled his mule to a stop at the sound of a gunshot. _What on earth was going on?_ He dismounted and led his mule to the edge of the mountain wall. He peeked and inhaled deeply at the sight before him. The caravan had been ambushed by guerrilla soldiers. One of them had shot the leader of the caravan. Four others were taking the men's packs. Not even the one-eyed man had been able to draw his weapon.

Spencer grabbed one of his backpacks and sifted through its contents in search of his gun and bullets. He loaded and cocked it and peeked again. From his vantage point he could pick them off one by one. But who was he kidding? He had been completely sober when he had failed his last firearms qualification. His aim was nowhere near good enough to hit five targets now.

The guerrillas finished rummaging through the packs and ordered the men to stand by the edge of the cliff. _Oh, my God,_ thought Spencer, _they're going to push them off the cliff!_ He decided instantly. Aiming at the leader, he pulled the trigger.

The echo of the gunshot was deafening. The bullet missed its target but ricocheted off the cliff wall and struck the second in command. With eyes wide open, he dropped to the floor in a lifeless heap. Everything unfolded quickly after that. The one-eyed man and his companions attacked the surprised outlaws. Multiple gunshots rang out but the guerrillas were outnumbered. Spencer took another shot and hit the target in the leg. The one-eyed man disarmed the wounded outlaw and shot him with his own gun.

Even in the dead silence that followed, the echo of the fired shots still filled the air. The one-eyed man called out to Spencer, "Gringo, ya puedes salir!"

Relieved Spencer sheathed his weapon in his waistband and joined the group. The one-eyed man and his four remaining companions nodded in approval. They quickly gathered their belongings and mounted their mules. Their urgency led Spencer to understand that danger was still imminent. He searched for his mule, but discovered that it had been shot in the crossfire. Spencer tried to pull his pack out from under the dead beast, but it was caught in the saddle. He needed help, but the three riders passed him by, full speed. The one-eyed man brought Spencer another mule and urged him to quickly mount.

The decimated caravan doubled back from where they came and rode away from the scene. Why, Spencer could only guess: the dead guerrillas were just scouts; the entire army was lodged somewhere on that mountain. But Spencer's main concern was for the pack he was forced to leave behind. It contained the picture of his little girl and his cell phone.

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 _ **From the author:**_ _I'm glad Spencer finally earned the respect of his traveling companions. The journey will be much easier with at least one friend. Next chapter we'll peek at the team in Quantico. Thank you for reading. Please review!_


	4. Chapter 4

**_Author's Note:_** Hello again! Thank you all for your kind reviews. You really provide the fuel for me to keep writing.

I loved your comments in Spencer's defense! I can tell how much you love him.

So, yeah, in my story, Spencer still has a bad aim. And he never bothered to learn Spanish because of a personal antipathy, which I'll elaborate on further down the line.

I hope you enjoy Chapter 4!

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Chapter 4

"Penelope, you have got to stop!" sighed J.J. She delicately wiped the edges of her mouth with a napkin and then took another sip of her hot chocolate. "Just talk to Morgan."

"No, I will not," responded the blonde technical analyst, her lips set stubbornly. Behind dark-rimmed glasses, her big, beautiful eyes were bright with unshed tears. She stuffed the last of her comfort brownie into her mouth and mumbled, "I'm hurt, J.J. This is me being hurt."

"No, this is you being petty! There could be a million reasons why he went to Miranda and not to you." J.J. was already tired of this conversation. She wanted to call Will during her lunch break to ask if Henry's fever had gone down. But she was being supportive. Penelope had been upset ever since this morning when she learned that Morgan was working on something "personal" with the technical analyst from the Missing Persons Unit. So J.J. invited Penelope on a lunch date.

"Oh, yeah? Name one," challenged Penelope.

J.J. giggled and said, "Maybe he wants to ask her out."

"Ew, she's like fifty," said Penelope making a grossed-out face.

"You know what Morgan says about cougars," laughed J.J.

Penelope pouted, "Very funny. Just admit it –he doesn't trust me."

"Okay, let me just stop you right there. You _know_ that he trusts you with his life. Nothing has changed between you two. He must have a very good reason for not wanting to involve you in whatever this is, we just don't know it. And we will never know it, unless you TALK TO HIM."

"What if he tells me to mind my own business?"

"Then you tell him you'll just hack into Miranda's computer and find out."

"I totally could do that," smiled Penelope for the first time today.

"Okay, then it's settled." J.J. put on her coat, scarf, and leather gloves and asked, "You ready, Pen? It's nasty cold today."

"Yeah, I'm ready," said Penelope.

They hurriedly walked around the block to the Metro station with the bleak winter wind blowing against their face. The ride back to Quantico was silent as Penelope thought about what she would say to Derek.

But when they arrived at Quantico, she had not expected to run into him right when the elevator doors opened. She was absolutely tongue tied. Afterwards, she couldn't remember what she said, but she must have delivered her practiced message because he responded.

"Look, Baby Girl," sighed Morgan. "I know we tell each other everything, but this is different. It's not my secret to tell. And I know that it would be a breeze for you to get the information on your own, but I'm asking you, as my best friend, to just leave it alone." His sexy voice rang in her ears and his sincere expression made her feel all warm and fuzzy.

"Fine," she finally caved in.

"That's my girl," he smiled and gave her one of his bear hugs. "You know I love you, right?"

"Yeah, yeah," she mumbled nonchalantly. "Derek Morgan, you are infuriating!"

"I am, aren't I?" he flirted. "But that's how you like me."

She watched him walk towards the bull pen. Her smile faded as she realized how he had just handled her. Again.

"Penelope Garcia, you always do this," she whispered.

All it took was one of his smiles to melt her resolve, or one word in that velvety tone to disarm her, or one touch to drive her insane. "Not this time," she said.

She rushed to her lab and shut the door. "Derek, I'm going to find you out."

She logged into the FBI database and unlocked forbidden doors in cyber space to the desired information. So it was just a simple cell phone track. _I could have done that,_ she thought. The number belonged to… Dr. Spencer Reid. And the signal had died at a _very_ remote region in Peru.


	5. Chapter 5

**From the Author:** Thanks, guys, for your awesome reviews. I owe Spencer an apology for abandoning him in the Andes. But some real-life constraints held me up. I'm back now, so let's finish Spencer's adventure and get him home!

In this Chapter, we're still at the BAU. I hope you enjoy it.

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 **Chapter 5**

"Penelope, we're presenting in five minutes," said Hotch over the phone.

"Yes, sir!" she nervously responded and hung up her desk line. She gathered her materials while mumbling, "Think _serial killer_ , forget Reid."

But she couldn't. Her mind was racing with a hundred possibilities. There was only one reason for Reid to be in Peru: to fraternize with a known serial killer. Was he going to stay with her? Would they never see him again? Out of all the ungrateful things to do to your family! She was so mad at Spencer she could have killed him! But what if he was lost in the jungle? Or hurt? Or…? Poor Reid! Her big eyes filled with tears.

"Shake it off, Penelope!" she ordered herself, and she made her way up the stairs with her uncomfortable high heels that she insisted just needed a little more breaking in. She peeked at Derek's office and saw him still seated behind his desk. A glance at her watch revealed a precious window for a two-minute conversation. She walked into Derek's office, slammed the door shut, and remained with her back against the door. How was she going to tell him?

Derek gazed at her with smoldering eyes and said, "This is one of my favorite fantasies, Mama, but we just don't have enough time right now."

"What? No!" She knew he was joking, but she was aroused nonetheless. Could she possibly be the star of one of Derek's fantasies? One of his _favorite_ fantasies? But now was not the time to entertain that thought. She quickly said, "I'm here because I need to tell you that I did something bad."

"The question is, when are you going to do something bad with me?" he laughed picking up his tablet and materials for the briefing.

"Derek, I'm not joking around. I _have_ to tell you this, but I'm afraid you'll be mad at me."

He walked up to her and held her by the elbow. Her bare skin was on fire where his fingers were caressing her. "Okay, Baby Girl, just spill it out. You know I can't be mad at you for long."

"Okay," she sighed trying to focus. "I, I …."

"You…?"

"I know Reid is missing. And I'm worried sick about him!"

"Penelope!" groaned Derek. "I asked you not to pry. I even asked you nicely!"

She saw a flicker of anger in his dark chocolate eyes. "I know and I'm sorry. But you know I can't help myself when it comes to you." She was stunned at having said that out loud.

Derek softened immediately and whined, "This is exactly why I didn't want you to find out –now you're worried."

"Well, how can I not be? Aren't you?"

"Of course, I am. That's why I was keeping track of him. And that's why I kept digging into Alison's past."

"And what did you find out?"

"I'll tell you later. You do _not_ want to keep Hotch waiting, do you?

"Oh, God, no!" cried Penelope. And they hurried together to the briefing.

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 _ **Thank you for reading. Please leave a review.**_


	6. Chapter 6

_**Thank you for your reviews. M, you're so loyal!  
**_

 _ **Okay, tannerose. Here's a longer one for you!**_

Chapter 6

On the eleventh day of the journey, Dr. Spencer Reid believed he had reached the top hat of the world. With altitude sickness, blisters, and the fear of mortal danger behind him, Spencer was able to see its beauty for the first time.

The snow-capped mountain peak jutted into the blue sky above him, an early morning fog covered everything below. But as the sun flared in its glory, the fog seemed to melt away, revealing in puzzle-like pieces the greenest land he had ever seen. Chilled from head to toe, Spencer welcomed the sun's warmth on his lightly bearded face, knowing full well that by midday the heat would be intolerable. But he had started using a poncho, which protected his delicate skin.

"Ya estás listo, gringo?" asked the one-eyed man with a warm grin.

"Sí, Paco," responded Spencer eager to get going.

The caravan traveled with renewed spirits because they were reaching their destination. But Spencer felt exceptionally warm today. And he wasn't sure if it was his imagination or not, but he felt like the temperature rose at least ten degrees with each mile that brought them closer to the Black Lake. He asked Paco about it, and he simply said, "El río." The river. Yes, that would explain it. They had entered a new climate zone.

The topography changed as well. No more arid mountain passes. They were now on a jungle road. The dense canopy provided cover from the sun, but the humidity was suffocating. Spencer found it difficult to breathe. And the rain didn't help much either. It was as hot as a bowl of soup.

After the rain came the mosquitos, thick and black and relentless. Of course, they loved Spencer's sweet, foreign blood and made him quite miserable the rest of the way. But Spencer had learned to stop thinking that this was the worst thing that had ever happened to him, because tomorrow could bring something even more terrible.

It was high noon when they reached the Black Lake and Spencer stared in wide-eyed disbelief: at this altitude a lake with large-vessel navigation! A steamboat service offered transportation in the four cardinal directions. The boats were being loaded with passengers, both native and foreign, and all kinds of goods from exotic birds to logs. Reid couldn't help but wonder what was out there. Where were these people going in such a hurry?

The one-eyed man told Reid that this was where they would part. He sold the mules and gave Reid his share. Then he offered Reid a strong hand shake and told him which boat would take him to the Yuru frontier where he would find lodging. Spencer felt empty as he watched him leave. Paco had been a good companion. Now Spencer had to press on by himself. He took a deep breath almost letting self-pity wash over him. But his brain flashed before him the image of his baby girl. Daddy's coming, he thought. And he put on his back pack with renewed determination.

He reached the steamboat that headed north and paid his fair with the Captain.

"You look lost," chuckled a friendly female voice.

To Spencer's surprise, there was an American woman on the boat. She was pretty. She wore a long pony tail and a tank top that revealed shapely biceps. Her military grade boots and gear revealed that she wasn't a tourist. Not that there were any tourists there. But for the life of him, Spencer had no idea what that woman could be doing there.

"Who are you? What are you doing here?" he asked demandingly.

"Wow! You're polite," she laughed.

"I apologize," said Spencer embarrassed. "It's just that it's been a couple of weeks since I have an actual conversation."

"No, I think it's been longer than that," she smiled. Her sense of humor immediately put him at ease. "I'm Maggie, well, Margaret Trainer, actually." She extended her hand.

"Dr. Spencer Reid," he replied, pleased to finally meet someone who could appreciate his title.

"Oh, so you're the anthropologist!" she stated excitedly. "You're just in time. We were heading out without you."

Before he could respond, she called out, "The doc is finally here!"

"No, he's not, actually," said Spencer glancing over his shoulder at the approaching group consisting of an older woman, a younger woman, and two men.

"What do you mean?" asked Maggie.

"I'm not the anthropologist. Sorry."

"Then who the hell are you?" she asked.

"Okay, now who's being rude?" smiled Spencer.

She was still confused. "You mean to tell me that you're not on the National Geographic expedition?"

"No, are you?"

"Photographer, at your service."

"Wow, I'm impressed," he said.

"Then, what on earth are you doing here?"

"That's exactly what I was wondering when I saw you."

The National Geographic crew boarded the boat and one of the men told Maggie, "I thought this was a private charter." His eyes greedily roamed over her body and rested at her breasts.

"Obviously, it isn't," she retorted without a trace of her previous charm and good nature. Then to the crew she said, "This is Dr. Spencer Reid, and he was just telling me what he's doing here."

What could Spencer possibly say? That he was on his way to meet his daughter, who lives with a jungle tribe because her mother is wanted by the FBI for serial murder? He had to think fast. "I'm on my way to Dr. Gregor Montgomery's archaeological dig."

That caught the attention of the older gentleman, a stout British bloke who looked like he was on a lion hunt. He asked, "Is Dr. Montgomery renewing his operation, then?"

"Yes, he is," lied Reid. "In fact, that's what I'm here for. To get everything ready for his team's arrival."

"Interesting," mused the man. "That's Yuru land, barred off from foreigners."

"Yes, well, Dr. Montgomery has an understanding with the natives," said Reid vaguely.

"Yes, which is why no one else has been able to publish about the Yuru." Obviously jealous, he added, "Although, there isn't much more to dig there. Wasn't the site closed and classified as unfruitful?"

"Yes, but Dr. Montgomery believes it couldn't hurt to take another look, especially when no one else has access." That struck a nerve and the man set his gear down on the opposite end of the boat.

"Do you have any ID?" asked the younger man nearly in Reid's face. "Can never be too cautious around these parts. Lots of illegal trafficking in the area."

"No, I lost it in the journey," responded Spencer.

"Of course, you did," he replied sardonically. "I'm sorry. You'll have to wait till morning for the next boat."

"Oh, come on, Andrew!" sighed Maggie rolling her eyes.

"What if he kills us all in our sleep, Mags?" said Andrew.

"I won't be on the boat for long," intervened Reid calmly as he chose a seat. One thing was for sure: he was not getting off the boat, and he sure wasn't going to spend a night alone in the jungle. "I get off at the mouth of the Black River. The Captain told me that's about three hours out. So I won't get the chance to murder you in your sleep, Andrew, although I'd know exactly how to do it." Then he put his feet up and brought the brim of his hat over his eyes. This conversation was over.

Reid heard the crew get settled in and the engines start. Soon they were being whirred away over the black waters. And Spencer fell into a fitful sleep.

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 _ **Okay, so my inspiration for this chapter was "The City of Beasts," by Isabel Allende. I hope you enjoyed it. Thank you for reading. Please review!**_


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